


i could give you (a mirror)

by lullebelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullebelle/pseuds/lullebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo's hair is cut off by a group of Men, the Dwarrows are more upset than she is. </p><p>Or: Hair is very important to Dwarrows because of their culture, Bilbo's hair is important to her for personal reasons, and Kili is kind of an idiot, but what else is new?</p><p>Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could give you (a mirror)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _An enemy of the company captures Fem!Bilbo (Bilba? Bilberry?) with the intent to use her against them. However, they don't just threaten her life - they threaten her hair._
> 
>  
> 
> _See, dwarves consider it a grave insult for others (save for close family members/trusted friends, because otherwise the story would have been Bilbo and the Thirteen Rapunzels)to cut their hair._
> 
>  
> 
> _So, when the Company retrieves their burglar with hardly a scratch on her and her glorious curls cut to about her ears, they are outraged and prepared to go to war._
> 
>  
> 
> _Meanwhile, Fem!Bilbo thinks her new style is rather cute and can't see what all the fuss is about._
> 
> i don't feel i did this prompt justice at all. also, i added in some unrequested bagginshield? oops??

Bilbo has had just about enough of being held hostage. At least there aren’t any trolls this time.

The Man holding her has a knife, but it isn’t pressed against her neck like she would assume. His other hand is wrapped in her hair and she feels rather insulted that he obviously doesn’t find her a large enough threat to properly restrain. 

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll cut it.”

Bilbo almost squeaks in indignation. Yes, she may be a Halfling, but even a person half-blind could identify her as female. 

The group is standing before them and Bilbo feels similar to when the trolls threated to rip her limb from limb, only she is not covered in snot, for which she is very appreciative. 

“Let her go,” Thorin says, holding Ocrist aloft, eyes dark and deadly. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” one Man says. “We just want whatever money and gold you have.”

Someone growls and Thorin steps forward. “Let. Her. Go.”

The rest of the Company is watching her with frightened eyes. 

“Drop your weapons or we cut it,” the Man says, tightening the hand in her hair. She gasps at the sting in her scalp, hands grabbing at the fingers in her hair. The Man shakes her and her gasp turns into a cry. 

Bilbo is angry now.

She doesn’t have Sting, but that does not mean she is entirely useless. She lifts up her foot and slams it down onto the Man’s shin as hard as he can. He cries out, but less in pain and more in surprise, Bilbo notes with dissatisfaction. The hand in her hair jerks and the resistance keeping her against him lessens. She falls forward onto to the ground and turns onto her back to kick him as hard as she can in the knees. 

His next cry is laced with curses and pain and Bilbo feels triumphant. She hopes she’s broken something. 

The Dwarrows rush around her and she is aware of the clang of metal and voices shouting out. It’s over before she can even clamor to her feet as the Men turn tail and run into the woods. Bilbo is laying on the ground, amazed that she wasn’t trampled and blinking up at the top of the trees. Her friends crowd around her and hands help her to her feet. Her legs feel like jelly and she wobbles on them unsteadily. 

“Give her some air,” someone says and she is grateful. As appreciative as she is for the help, she would rather like to breathe. Everyone steps back to form a circle around her and as they do, there are noises of surprise and shock. 

“What?” Bilbo asks as the faces before her morph into looks of horror. “What is it?”

She checks her body for wounds, but besides being a bit dirtier and having a few new tears in her already destroyed dinner jacket, she sees nothing wrong. 

“Bilbo, your hair,” Kili says, eyes wide. 

“My… hair?” she asks, reaching up to feel at her scalp and her hand freezes at the base of her neck where her hair suddenly stops. 

“It’s gone,” she says dumbly. 

Bilbo is not prideful of many things, but her books and hair are two of them. She has – well, had, she supposes now – gorgeous hair, as her mother put it once. Long and curly, it fell over her shoulders and was envied by many in the Shire. 

Once, she might have cried at the very thought of having so much of her hair cut off and she does feel a lump in her throat, but she is determined not to cry in front of the people who just risked their lives to save her. She gives a watery smile and says, “Well, such surprises are the nature of adventures, I suppose.”

No one laughs. In fact, no one has spoken since they realized what happened. While she may feel a keen sense of disappointment and loss at the curly locks scattered around her feet, she certainly doesn’t understand the Company’s reactions. 

“Let’s hunt them down and kill them,” Nori growls and there is a rousing cheer of agreement. 

“What? No!” Bilbo sputters. “That’s really not necessary!” Almost everyone stops at her words, except Nori and Dwalin, who are still pulling weapons out of places Bilbo wouldn’t like to consider. “Please. All I want right now is to find a place to sit for a while. I emphatically do not want anyone going after anybody.”

Everyone turns to Thorin and she feels more than a little offended. It is her hair and she should get to say what happens because of it. 

Thorin is gripping Ocrist tightly and there is a darkness in his eyes. For a moment, Bilbo is worried that he wishes to charge after the Men as well, but he finally sighs and hilts his blade. “Put away your weapons.” There is a ripple of displeasure and Bilbo hears a few complaints, but Thorin says, “I said put away your weapons. If our burglar does not wish revenge then we are to honor that.”

Bilbo is still a bit concerned that a riot might break out, but Dori places his arms around Bilbo’s shoulders and ushers her away from the group. “You must still be in quite a shock,” he says, settling her down on a rock. “Just sit her a bit until you’re ready to go back to camp. Then we’ll make you a nice cup of chamomile.” He leans in and whispers. “Are you sure you don’t want us to hunt them down? They couldn’t have gotten far.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen and she nods. “Um, yes. Quite sure.”

Dori looks disappointed, but he pats her gently on the back and doesn’t speak of it again. 

When her legs have stopped shaking and she has assured Dori that she’s fine, Ori approaches with a small swath of cloth in hand. “Bilbo? I gathered up your hair. I don’t know if you might want it or not, but it didn’t seem right to simply leave it.”

Bilbo smiles and takes the small bundle. “Thank you, Ori.”

He ducks his head and slips away, but she doesn’t miss the mournful expression on his face.

It’s puzzling and she figures she’ll have to ask Kili about it and beat the answer out of him later when he refuses to tell her. 

-

By noon the next day, Bilbo is positive that Kili is avoiding her. 

Normally, he and Fili are content to walk beside her during the day and attempt to swipe things from her pack or get to her laugh at dirty jokes, but now they are notably absent, walking nearer their uncle with their heads down. 

It’s not until suppertime that she is able to sneak up on either them. 

“Why is everyone acting like someone has died?” Bilbo asks Kili, sitting next to him in the dirt before he can spot her and scuttle away. 

“Er,” he response smartly, a spoonful of stew half way to his lips. 

Bilbo crosses her arms and stares at him stubbornly. She’s not moving until she gets her answer. “Well?”

“Um.”

“Kili.”

“It’s a Dwarf thing,” he says, looking down at his lap. 

“And?” she presses.

“And?” he responds, shoving his spoon into his mouth. 

“And keep going.”

Kili huffs and puts down his bowl. “Alright, alright. Hair is…” He pauses, looking for the right words. “Hair is important to Dwarrows. We find it to be gravely insulting when anyone other than a family member or a close friends cuts it and we would never consider asking someone who we aren’t close with to even trim it.”

“Is that why everyone has been acting as if they’re in mourning?”

“I don’t know about Hobbit customs, but if a Dwarf’s hair was to be cut off like yours, they would be very insulted and distressed.”

“Is that why everyone was ready to hunt down those Men and kill them?”

“Yes. As your fellow Dwarrows, it is our responsibility to defend your honor.”

“I did not realize the importance that Dwarrows placed on their hair.”

“Oh, yes. It is of great importance. We were born with nothing but our hair so why should we not treasure and protect it? Hair means many things to Dwarrows.”

“Like what?” Bilbo asks curiously. 

“It can signify favor between people. If someone lets you cut their hair, it means they hold you in very high regard. Giving hair to someone can say that you are interested in pursuing a relationship with them.”

“You can say all of that with hair?” Bilbo asks, astonished. 

“Oh, yes.” 

Bilbo rests her chin against her knees and ponders this. “I had never ever considered.”

Kili shrugs. “It’s our way.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she says. “Well, now that’s all sorted, I’m going to sleep. Good night, Kili.”

“Wait,” he says and she pauses. “About what happened. I’m… I’m really sorry about you being kidnapped. I was on watch and I didn’t stop it-”

“Oh, Kili, it wasn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. Nor am I mad at your brother. However, I am a bit cross at your uncle for deciding that putting you and your brother on watch after the pony incident was a good idea.”

Kili makes a noise of protest and indignation. “That was one time!”

“And then it was twice,” she says with a smirk, pointedly fingering the strands of hair curling around her ears. Kili’s face falls and Bilbo bumps her shoulder against his. “Now don’t be like that. I’ve already told you that I’m not angry.”

“Are you positive?”

“Of course. The only thing I mourn is not being able to make everyone jealous when I get back home. Their faces, I suppose, when they sees my new cut with have to suffice instead.”

-

It is not until the next day that the Company makes it to a river and Bilbo is overjoyed. She hasn’t had an opportunity to bathe or wash her clothes in weeks and she is quite positive she stinks worse than a Warg. 

Once she has washed both herself and her clothes, she lays back on the grass in the only extra pair of clothes she brought with her and runs her fingers through her hair. She’s shocking to feel it stop where it does instead of feeling it fall past her shoulders. It’s soft and feels feather light, though, and she likes the way it flutters in the breeze.

Normally, it would take time to make sure her curls laid right and without a mirror, it would have been absolutely impossible, but now she only has to pat down her hair and make sure that no curls are sticking out at odd angles. 

She scoots at the bank of the river and gazes down into the water, turning her head from side to side. 

“Admiring the view?”

Bilbo looks up and smiles at Bofur, who is wringing the water out of his own hair. Bombur and Bifur are sitting farther down the bank, laying out their own clothes to dry. “More like examining it and seeing if I still look like a Hobbit.”

Bofur settles down beside her and crosses his legs. “Of course, you look like a Hobbit. What else would you look like?”

Bilbo shrugs. “I don’t know. A small elf, perhaps?” The look on Bofur’s face makes her laugh and she turns back to the water. Her fringe is intact, but the sides of her hair barely reach to her ears. The back feels choppy and uneven and she can’t for the life of her get it to lay flat. She probably won’t be able to unless she gets someone to even it out for her. 

It’s not terrible, at least, and she thinks that it frames the shape of her face well. The sides are uneven, though, and she looks a bit odd. Remembering what Kili told her the night before, she turns to Bofur and says, “Bofur, may I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Will you cut my hair?”

He is silent for a moment before he smiles gently. “I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“Kili explained a little bit to me about the importance that Dwarrows put on their hair. I think of you as a very close friend and would be honored if you cut my hair, but if you aren’t comfortable with it, I understand.”

Bofur’s smile turns sweet at her words. “I would be honored to cut your hair.” He pulls out the knife he uses to whittle and waits for her to get comfortable on the grass. “I don’t know what you would like me to do with it, but I’ll try my best.”

Bilbo turns so she is facing away from him and waits for him to scoot closer. “Just even the back and sides, if you wouldn’t mind. I fear a look a bit lopsided.”

Bofur whistles as he works at her hair and his fingers are gentler than she ever imagined a Dwarrow’s to be. 

After Bofur is done with her hair and Bilbo looks it over, she declares she rather likes it and tells him he could become her personal barber in the Shire if he ever grew tired of making toys.

Bofur laughs at that and shakes his head. “I think I’ll stick with my own trade, but thank you for letting me cut it.”

Bilbo smiles warmly. “You’re welcome.”

-

Bilbo is folding her dry clothes and putting them into her pack when she notices the bundle of cloth that Ori had wrapped her hair in. She pulls it out and unwraps it, running her fingers along the curly strands. They shine gold and red in the sunlight and Bilbo smiles. She was rather vain about her hair, but it was lovely hair, so. 

While she feels sentimental over it, it seems a bit ridiculous to carry her hair around Middle Earth with her, no matter how nice it was, so she sits back on the grass and pulls Sting out of its sheath. 

“What are you doing, Burglar?” 

She shields her eyes against the sun and looks up to find Thorin towering over her. For once, he has shed his heavy coat and boots, his hair hanging heavy and wet down his back. “I’m aiding birds in the building of their homes.”

He looks at her as if she has gone daft and she smiles. Sting rests between her knees and she reaches to her side to pick up a lock of her hair. “What are you doing?” Thorin asks again, only he sounds a bit alarmed this time. 

“I said that I am helping birds build their nests.” With that, she drags her hair across the blade, cutting it into two equally sized portion. 

“Stop that,” Thorin says, squatting down and pulling the hair out of her hands. 

“Excuse me-” she cries indignantly, trying to snatch her hair back.

He holds it out of her reach. “Do you not understand the importance of hair, Burglar, or do you simply choose to ignore it? This is not how you treat something so fine.”

Bilbo sits straighter. “I am perfectly aware of the importance that Dwarrows place on hair, but seeing as I am a Hobbit, I will do whatever I like with it. Seeing as it is mine, after all.” 

“I would not have you give your hair to birds,” he says. “Your hair is to be treasured and if cut, saved or given to someone you deem important.”

“Well, perhaps I deem the birds important,” she replies. “And as I have said before, it is my hair, so I shall do whatever I please with it.” Bilbo holds out her hand expectantly. Thorin rubs the hair in his hand between his fingers and almost reluctantly gives it back to her. “Thank you,” she says primly, turning back to her blade.

Bilbo can almost hear him grind his teeth together before he rises and stalks away. She sighs, shakes her head, and resumes cutting her loose hair into smaller pieces for birds to add to their nests. She cuts all but a few locks, tying them together with the ribbon she used to hold her hair back and placing it in her pack. 

When she is done, Bilbo scatters the strands of her hair and on the grass for any wayward birds to find and stands, dusting bits of grass and hair off her trousers. 

-

Bilbo lays back on her bedroll that night, twisting her remaining lock of hair between her fingers. 

Before she knows what she’s doing, Bilbo rises and walks around the fire to sit next to Thorin on a fall log. She extents her arm and in her palm is the lock of hair she kept. “For you.”

Thorin swallows and shakes his head. “I cannot accept. You do not understand the importance of what you do, Burglar.”

Bilbo rolls her eyes and reaches forward with her other hand to grasps Thorin’s. She places her hair into his palm and forces his fingers to close over it. “For your information, I do. You are frustrating and think you can tell me what to do and not do, but I deem you of great importance, so whether or not you choose to accept the meaning behind my gift, I give you this.”

She leaves him there and he doesn’t say a word.

-

Instead of going bed like she wants, Bilbo ends up chasing Kili and Fili around the fire when they steal Ori’s journal. When she’s finally able to trip Fili and steal the book from his hands, she scolds them, but laughs as she hands Ori his journal. 

It takes only a matter of minutes, but when she pulls back the blanket on her bedroll, she freezes when she sees a long braid of hair on her pillow. She reaches forward and fingers it, stroking the beads that are clasping it at both ends. 

They’re the ones Thorin wears in his hair and she smiles.


End file.
